Sansa: Hellfire
by Hakkai Suiren
Summary: She didn't think it would work. This "magic" and the chance to return to home were nothing but false hopes. But still. Sansa was, at her core, selfish. Life was not worth living if her pack was gone. Time-Travel. Sansa-centric. Starks. Theon. Boltons. Baratheons. Maybe more? Jonsa. Jon x Sansa.


Hello! Hello! Thanks for everyone that clicked on this story and decided to give it a read.

A couple of heads up - I'm a, uh, person that tends to love reading and writing about "villains" turning _somewhat_ good so yeah... Expect some characters to start working their way to redemption. Or, attempt to. Because some characters just can't get over themselves. This story is centered around Sansa and her adventures so if you're not fond of her or feel like she's taking up too much of the story then this isn't for you.

As for pairings it's 100% Gendry x Arya (though that won't come for a long, long time or won't even be in this particular story). Sansa _might_ have a lot of love interests or people vying for her attention (of course, it might not be all good), but that's dependent on how future character interactions unfold. However, she's ultimately going to end up with Jon.

I hope y'all enjoy!

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**Prologue: Arya**

She laid in her bed, curled up as tight as she could and squeezed her eyes shut. Hurried footfalls flew past her door and into the room next to her own. Screams - horrible, horrible screams continued to echo through the stone walls. Little Arya wanted to scream too, but all she could manage was a muffled sob.

It continued for minutes, taking longer than she had been expecting, before silence reigned in. Nights like these were becoming a norm for the members of House Stark. Arya held with bated breath as the seconds passed, waiting for the usual summons. It probably wouldn't be her; she had gone two nights prior. Perhaps it would be Jon or Bran; they were they ones that _she _requested for the most. Followed by Father and Robb and herself. Rarely was Mother or baby Rickon called for. They were only sent for once if Araya were to remember correctly.

The talk was faint, words obscured by the thick walls and wooden doors. Arya shifted and sniffled in her bed, hesitant in her decision to remain where she was or to join the others in her sister's room. That's what she called her now - "sister." Because if she dared to _think_ of the name it was admitting to herself that there was something wrong with Winterfell's Beloved and Perfect Little Lady. And for all her jealousy and differences with her red-haired counterpart Arya did not wish her any ill will.

"T-Theon?!"

A blink. That made her sit up in surprise. A name was given and that's what the youngest daughter of the Starks had taken to calling the summons - "The Naming" or simply "A Name."

Arya was more alert now, tiptoeing and opening her door just a crack to hear the conversation flowing from the adjacent room. She could hear Father and Mother grumbling to each other with the maester. Her elder brothers were absent, most likely ordered to stay in their own rooms but on standby. Truth be told the entire castle was on edge, awaiting the seemingly catastrophic event that would inevitably follow the changes in her sister.

It was an illness the smallfolk were beginning to say. Punishment from the Old Gods. But why? The Stark family were kind and just people. They took care of their own and had ruled the North with a fair and firm hand. It was mind boggling and Arya couldn't agree more. Her family were the best even if her mother and sister were more than a little mean to Jon.

"It is not appropriate!" She heard her mother hiss. By this time Arya was standing just outside the door, pressing her small body against the wooden surface.

"I am well aware of that," said her father. The weariness and exasperation evident with the heavy sigh that came after. "But look at her! Our daughter - "

There was a crash and thumps and the sounds of bare feet slapping against stone floors.

"Sansa! Stop it!"

"No! No! Let me go!" Arya seized in place at her sister's voice. There was a hint of madness to it. Not at all indicative of her usual prissy and snobby tone. She needed to move, to return to the safety of her blankets, but her limbs were frozen. "I want Theon!"

The door flew open and Arya felt her body stumble to the ground as Sansa (there, she finally thought of her name) pushed and ran out into the cold hallways.

"Sansa!" Cried the adults as they somewhat calmly (_Why had they allowed Sansa to flee from their watch?_) exited the room. The maester shook his head in pity as his gaze followed the dimming form of her sister. It was then that he noticed her on the stone floor, looking dazed.

"Arya?"

Her mother and father echoed her name, both now kneeling by her.

"Oh, sweet child. What are you doing up? You should be in bed," fussed her Mother, who began to thread her fingers through her tangled hair. Her Father tried to give her a reassuring smile but it was strained even for a little girl like her. She might be young but she was an observant and intelligent child.

She contemplated on her answer, but decided to go with the truth. "She was screaming again." Her voice was soft, vulnerable. "I…" It was obvious that their wild daughter would find sleep hard to come by, especially since her room was next to Sansa's. "She's always screaming." Arya's brows furrowed and her lips pressed together tightly.

"What's wrong with her?!" Tears were suddenly prickling at the corner of her eyes. She grasped at her mother's arm and at her father's tunic. "What's wrong with Sansa!" Arya hated her sister. Always the most praised, always the most loved between them. Always the pretty one. But she was still her sister - pack. This whole situation was scaring her.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell glanced at each other. They didn't understand what the problem was with their daughter was either. It came out of nowhere and they were definitely not equipped to handle their daughter's sudden change and unknown plight. How were they supposed to answer?

"I believe it to be a case of night terrors, little miss," answered Maester Luwin. "It's a rare thing but it happens. And it plagues many a different people. Your sister… is an unfortunate victim." Arya's eyes widened, tears freely flowing now. At the display the older man was quick to reassure her, "N-Not to worry. These things pass and Lady Sansa will be right as new."

His words did nothing to comfort her. "I want to see Sansa." She whimpered as she moved to climb into her father's arms, who picked her up easily and let her cling to him. No further words were said as they quickened their pace to fulfill her request.

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When they finally came upon Sansa, Arya found herself staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of her. No doubt it was mirrored by her parents and Maester Luwin. The small group stood at the open door of Theon's chambers. Already within the room were Robb and Jon, both scowling and trying to shift their positions to a more advantageous leap or something.

"Sansa," started Robb, hands up in a placating manner. "Sweet sister."

Arya watched in fascination as her sister firmly tightened her arms around Theon's neck and shoulders, making the boy from the Iron Islands swallow thickly as he himself saw the flash of irritation and the air of "You're dead, Greyjoy." emanating from his good friend, Robb. Jonn too was exuding a similar aura but less so. He and Sansa were not as close as they "used" to be.

It was something that the older servants mentioned from time to time whenever her mother gave Jon a particularly harsh and unnecessary scolding when she was in one of those bad moods. They said that Jon and Sansa were as tight as she and Jon were before she had been born, and that rankled Arya a bit too much. Jon was _her_ favorite brother, just as _she_ was his.

However, this was about Sansa and how terrifying it was to not see her act all superior and stupidly lady-like. But there she was, molding her childish body against her father's ward as if he would protect her. Which was stupid. No one in their company was a threat, and even if there was, Theon couldn't move a single inch whilst cornered on his bed and his back pressed against the walls.

"Do not 'sweet sister' me, Robert," came Sansa's immediate reply, cutting off what words their brother was trying to string together. "He's the only one!" It was a sudden yell that had everyone jumping in place. Arya felt her father's hold on her form tighten as he opted to let the scene play out. She felt rather than saw her mother step forward, but was stopped by her lord husband.

"He's the only one... " The words were repeated, softer but just as intense. "No one but Theon - " Sansa choked a sob as she tried to convey something that none of them were aware of.

"No one but Theon?" Jon prompted. He had slowly made his way towards the pair.

Sansa shook her head against Theon's chest. Poor child was pale as a sheet, confused and thoroughly asking for help with his dark eyes. His hands were positioned firmly by his sides, unsure if he should reciprocate Sansa's hold on him or simply let her cling to him. He was well aware of what rumors could do to her image despite their still young age. Either way, Theon could only shrug in bewilderment when he spotted the question in their eyes.

"My friend." It was but a whisper, but they all seemed to have heard it. "My only companion against a dark and cruel… " Then silence. The light in Sansa's eyes dimmed and blanked. Something had stolen her away for the night, just as it always did when this all started.

It remained quiet for a bit longer as if they were hoping for a continuation. However, it was clear that they would not be getting any more from the sickened child. Arya tried to wiggle down from her father's hold but he only tightened his grip and shook his head. Instead, he had called Jon over and transferred her to him.

"Take Arya back to her room, will you, Jon?" A command in the form of a question.

"But Father!" Arya was quick to protest, though she had already settled in her brother's arms.

She was ignored and her lady mother, despite her disapproving gaze on the pair, walked out of the room with them. Jon was on edge. Arya could tell by the tenseness in muscles and how stiffly he held her. While she felt horrible for him, having to be in her mother's domineering and cold presence, her grey eyes could only be transfixed by the scene they were leaving behind.

"M-My Lord," Theon stuttered when all of the men had converged upon him and Sansa. Her father sat at the middle rim of the bed, Maester Luwin remained standing by the head, and Robb planted himself at the bottom side with his arms crossed over his chest. "I swear I've not touched a single hair on Sansa. I-I mean, Lady Sansa. I swear it. Honest. She-She… I don't know. Came in and-and. Her arms were suddenly around me. I'm sorry."

That was the first time she had heard the older boy ramble and appear utterly out of his element. She would have laughed and pointed a finger at him if it weren't so serious and her sister wasn't being herself. The last thing Arya saw, just before they turned around the corner of the hall, was her father trying to calm Theon and tug Sansa from the kraken to no avail.

* * *

"Sansa doesn't even like Theon," Arya said in a matter of fact tone as she climbed down Jon's arms and slipped under her covers. She was not at all mindful of her lady mother, who's face pinched together as she remained patiently by the door. Her attention was all on Jon, who had nodded and began to tuck her in.

"Aye, that she doesn't," he agreed, making one last adjustment so that his little sister was firmly hugged by the furs. "But it's time for bed now, Arya."

There was a huff and Jon could only chuckle in response. "Do you think she'll remember this time?" She asked, ignoring the attempts to get her to sleep.

Her question made Jon pause as he took a seat on her bed. His entire body seemed to have taken on his "brooding" pose, elbows digging into his thighs as he leaned forward with a frown on his lips and his brows scrunched together in thought. Arya waited for a response. She knew that Sansa never remembered a thing during those horrid nights, as evidenced by her own experiences come morning where the older girl had screamed in fright when she continually found herself in someone else's chambers.

Jon was, of course, the unlucky one to have gone through it first. After Sansa drifted off into her coma-like state, there was no way anyone could pry her off or passively convince her to detach herself from her chosen companion. It had been awful with Sansa kicking and screaming, trying to claw her way back to Jon. Then came the crying and the soft pleading against a locked door, hands knocking against wood or scratching at it when they had pulled her away that one time.

Arya could remember tossing and turning the entire night, unable to sleep because of her sister's condition. When they had checked on her in the morning, Sansa's hands were almost entirely covered in blue, black, and purple bruises in addition to having swollen up from knocking and pounding on the door, and her fingertips raw and red from occasionally scratching at the door. It was agreed, albeit reluctantly, that they could not separate Sansa from whomever she cried for.

And when Jon was called once more the following night, they didn't put up much of a fuss. Though everyone remained on edge and still tried to coax Sansa to return to her own room without any real determination. It was simply for the sake of trying. Maybe she'd come to her senses and listen to their words. Unfortunately, nothing worked and the Sansa they knew only returned come morning when the dawn broke, and she screamed bloody murder the moment she woke up in Jon's arms.

That had been a spectacle, Arya remembered. Sansa with all her denials and how she, a proper lady, would never stoop so low as to find comfort in her half-brother's bed. Plus, she was coming up on her name day in a few moons. She was far too old to be needing another person to help her sleep through the night.

But every other night Sansa would continue these strange actions - screaming, crying, and pleading. Arya, after a while, came to the conclusion that something horrible plagued her sister. Everyone did eventually. The youngest daughter thought it might be dark magic. Mayhaps some commoner was finally fed up with her prissy attitude and figured it'd be a "fun" prank to pull on the child.

"I don't think so, no." Was Jon's reply. He patted her leg and moved to leave her for the night. Lady Stark's heated glare burned at his back, willing him to make his presence scarce.

Arya frowned, unwilling to accept that answer just yet. "But it's the first time she's actually said _anything_ about _something_."

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That's it for the Prologue! Did y'all like it? It's actually been a while since I've written a story, and this has been sitting in my Google Docs for over a year or two before I finally fished it out and decided to publish it. If there are any mistakes or corrections that I've missed, please alert me. Thanks!


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